Is It Real?
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: Spike POV. He muses about the break up with Buffy.


Title:  Is It Real?

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  PG-13 (Language and Angst)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Innocence, Tough Love, Gone and As You Were.

Summary:  Spike POV.  He muses about the break up with Buffy.

Status:  Finished

It's not the same.  The world is different now.  It's been weeks since she said those words to me.

_It's over._

I still don't believe that she really said those words.  I think I'm stuck in a dream, and I'm going to wake up any moment now.  And when I do, I'll be in my bed, Buffy's body pressed against me as she sleeps.  But I know that it's a false hope.  Because I'm awake.

I sit on the steps to the crypt, looking out into the night.  Hoping against hope that she'll come over the horizon.  But I know better.  I was killing her.  And this time, I wasn't even trying.  I was only trying to love her.  I guess what Angel said was right.

_To kill this girl, you have to love her._

The words resonate in my mind as the cigarette dangles between my lips.  I spend most of my time outside now.  Looking out over the headstones.  Looking up to the heavens.  Because there are too many memories of her inside.  Too many moments.  Too much hope.

I don't need hope right now.  Because I know that it doesn't exist.  I knew it when she walked away from me.  And why does it come as such a shock to me?  I'm a monster.  I'm damned.  Why would I be rewarded?  Why would she love me?

_I can't love you._

The cigarette hangs on my lower lip.  I make no effort to pull in the noxious yet savoring smoke into my lungs.  It remains there because it feels comfortable.  It's what I know.  Just like I knew her.  Or, thought I did.

I look back up to the heavens, my knees cradled against my chest, my arms lying on top of my knees.  And the cigarette stays on my lips.  Because it's what I know.  I feel like I'm dead again.  Well, I've been dead for well over a century.  But in that small window, I felt alive.  Being with her.  And I was killing her at the same time.

I sigh as my gaze moves across the heavens, looking for her star.  The one I labeled as hers when she died.  My reminder that she was okay.  That she was at peace.  Funny thing is, I can't find it.  I do my damnedest scouring the skies with my gaze, but it's not there anymore.  Figures.  Even this is taken from me.

The final embers fall to the earth, the cigarette extinguishing from lack of sustenance.  I gently pull the butt from my lips, flicking the remnants onto the grass.  I look on as the smoke hovers around me.  And not one drop of nicotine enters my system.  Because I can't breathe.

Another reminder that I'll never be good enough for her.  She needs normal.  I thought she needed some monster in her man, but I was wrong.  She needs someone to care for her.  She needs someone to hold her.  She needs someone to love her.  But that someone isn't me.  Because I'm not a man.  I'm just a reminder of everything she hates.  And she hates me.

No.  That's not right.  She can't love me.  Doesn't mean that she doesn't care for me.  But, she's ashamed of me.  If not, she would have told her damn Scoobies about us.  But she never will.  Because she was just using me.  Just like I was using her.

Yeah, that's right.  I was using her.  She used me to feel something physical.  I used her to feel something emotional.  I've never felt this way about anyone.  Not even with Dru.  I thought I loved her.  But that all changed when Glory and Dawn showed up.  Changed my whole perspective on the world.  That there were things worth fighting for.  Apple pie.  Puppy dogs.  Little glowy Keys.  And a love that could never be reciprocated.

So, I used her.  I'm not proud of it, but at least I had her for a moment.  And if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn't change a bloody thing.  Except maybe hire someone to kill soldier boy.  No, I don't mean that. That's just the confusion and frustration talking.  Cos me and the boy have something in common now.  We both held her but never really had her.  And, I realize now, that's the worst thing in the world.  Not having her.

I could swear that I feel cold.  That a shiver just ran down my spine.  But that's not possible.  Because I'm not alive.  I don't feel.  That's a lie, too.  I can feel when I have to.  Hell, I fell in love with a Slayer.  No.  I hate the Slayer.  With every fiber in my being.

I fell in love with Buffy.  The way she smiles.  The way she giggles.  The way her voice drops to a mere whisper when she's trying to hide something.  The way her nose curves in that special way.  The way her hair glistens in the moonlight.  I could keep going and I'd probably never run out of reasons why I love her.

But, that's the thing.  This isn't real.  I can't love her.  She can't love me.  Because of who we are.  Because of what we are.  Fate's dealing from a stacked deck, and I'm holding all the jokers and the sodding rule card.  I sigh, feeling the weight of my emotions threatening to crush me.  My heart doesn't beat, but it feels like it's about to break into a million tiny shards.

I see a star shoot across the night sky, my gaze still heaven bound.  This warrants a small smile.  Even during moments like these, the world can be a beautiful place to be in.  That's why I helped her back then with Angelus.  Even though I hated her, I had a reason to help her.  Because I'm attached to the subtle nuances of this world.  For all the bad, the good is sometimes worth it.  Just like tonight.  Sitting here, looking up at the stars.  Realizing how insignificant it all is.

The world could end tomorrow, a meteor jarring it from orbit, plunging it into a perpetual ice age.  Or another hell god could make a play to bring hell on earth.  Either way, it's all going to end someday.  But for right now, I'm glad it's still around.  Even without her, I still have this.  The night.  The moonlight.  The stars.  All the little things that add up to so much more.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.  Because it does.  I had her.  But I didn't.  I move my hand into my jacket, fishing out another cigarette.  I place it between my lips, my hand moving to find the lighter.  A few seconds later and I flick the top off, holding the cigarette over the flame.  I don't inhale, though.  I just look on as it catches.  Then I place the lighter back into the pocket.  The same lighter she tried to keep.  A possible reminder of me.  But I took it back.  And she has nothing to remind her of our time together.  Nothing but her memories.

Memories fade, though.  And then I won't even have that.  I'm losing her all over again, even though I've already lost her.  Although, this time, it hurts so much more.  Because I no longer matter to her.

_I'm sorry, William._

She would use that against me.  Her last jab at me as she walked out of my life.  Her little hint to me.  She couldn't love all of me.  Only the man.  The wanker I've tried over a century to bury and leave for dead.  She didn't apologize to me that night as I stood in the rubble.  She was apologizing to the man.  To William.

The cigarette burns while it dangles between my lips, offering me comfort.  And I look off to the horizon, hoping that she'll come into view soon.  Because this isn't real.  This is just a dream.  I'm going to wake up soon.  And she'll be against me, her warm touch complementing my cold touch.  This can't be real.  This isn't real.

Is it?

_Fin_  


End file.
